


Telling John Watson

by Krystalmatsumiya



Series: Moments [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalmatsumiya/pseuds/Krystalmatsumiya
Summary: Sherlock and Greg (Mostly Sherlock) tell John about their relationship(I suck at summaries >.





	1. Chapter 1

Greg ran out of the small changing room the football kit clinging to his body in a way that he really couldn’t enjoy as it highlighted the fact that he had started to sag a little in recent years. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling more so, his mind provided unhelpfully, when you were dating a man 20 years your junior who had the cheekbones a model would be envious of. He shook his head trying to dislodge the image of his lover only to have the man himself standing in the crowd staring at him with Watson at his side. They looked out of place amongst the wives and partners of the force football team with Sherlock standing as stiff as a board glaring at out him as though he were hating being there. 

He probably was, Greg knew Sherlock didn’t even understand the game that he loved, when they were sitting in his flat watching his team on TV Sherlock would fall to sleep. He had never come to the inter-department game before. Greg supposed that John could have encouraged him to come but it was unnerving to see him there. 

“Oi, Lestrade…Get your head in the game…” A teammate shouted, loudly, and Greg coughed pulling his eyes away from to Sherlock to the rest of his team who had already gotten in position for the second half. They were in the lead when the whistle blew but it became increasingly more evident that he couldn’t keep his focus on the game and he wasn’t surprised when he was substituted out. He sat on the bench and ran his eyes through the crowd again and found Sherlock staring at him. His eyebrows were trying to talk to him and when his head motioned to the changing room he got the hint. He got to his feet again and then headed around the field to the changing room. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into his bag barely turning around as he heard the door open. 

“Sherlock, what’s up?”

“…John said that you would be playing a game…He asked if I would like to accompany him…” Sherlock answered coming over and sitting in front of him with John ambling afterward him. Greg gave the doctor a smile glad of the man’s presence in Sherlock’s life now that he could be sure that Sherlock was being looked after when he couldn’t. “I’m sorry if I was too much of a distraction…” 

“Just surprised to see you here…Shall we go get a pint…” 

“…If that is what you would like but…I think that there is something that needs to be said first…” Sherlock announced clearing his throat and turning to Watson and Greg stiffened his hand going to Sherlock’s shoulder as he managed to rasp out;

“Sherlock…”

Of course, Sherlock had a bee in his bonnet about it now and wasn’t prepared to listen to him and he watched, rather like somebody watching a disaster, Sherlock take a breath and then lurch in what was obviously a well-rehearsed speech; 

“John, while I value you as a companion and, dare I say it, friend I must apologise if I have ever given you the impression that we could be anything more than that…I once told you that I considered myself married to my work and while this remains true…There is somebody that I consider to be a valued…Life mate…” 

“You’ve…Wait a second…You’ve got…A lover?” John said, his voice ringing with amusement and shock, and Greg had to admire the man for not outright clouting him for being so pompous in his rejection more so given that he had every reason to believe that John Watson was probably the only one that didn’t think he and Sherlock were dating. 

“I understand that this may be difficult for you to understand and…I suppose that you might have reason to be shocked but, you must remember that I never intentionally set out to lie to you…You have rightly deduced that I am homosexual…” 

“…I did? When…Did…” 

“...Sunshine, you’re waffling a bit…” Greg sighed coming to the aide of the pair and nudging Sherlock’s arm. The action appeared to be enough to give John a boost as he blinked slowly his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish Greg’s wife had owned once before. It wasn’t a pleasant sight ad Greg felt uncomfortable in the stare and the way the doctor started pointing at them. 

“You…You and…You?”

“Yes…Lestrade and I are intimate…” Sherlock confirmed with a brisk nod of the head. He looked completely non-pulsed but Greg was sure that he knew Sherlock better than that. His fie was extremely tense and his eyes were fixed into a stare “He and I have sex…” 

“Sherlock!” Greg groaned loudly at the lack of grace that his lover was exhibiting and Sherlock rolled his eyes pouting perfectly as he let out a confused and frustrated hum before saying; 

“What, you were the one that said you wished that we could tell John so here we are telling him…” 

“…Not how I pictured it, Sunshine” Greg let out a heavy sigh his hand nudging at Sherlock’s arm again. He had been thinking of telling John over a round of beers or something not in a changing room with his chest exposed for the world to see and Sherlock glared at him his mouth opening but instead of Sherlock speaking it was John who spluttered;

“You…You really…You are serious?”

“…I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t serious, of course I’m serious, Lestrade and I are intimate and have been for years…” 

“No…No, you said…You said that that wasn’t your area…” Greg blinked slowly his face twitching into an almost smile as he had to admit that there was never a truer word spoken. 

“…I said that girlfriends weren’t my area…And they’re not…Lestrade might be a bumbling idiot of police officer sometimes but he is a man…” 

“Ta very much…” Greg muttered under his breath though his voice was drowned out by the scoffing hiss that came from John as he ground out; 

“…Lestrade? Like you don’t even remember his name?”

“Is his name somehow important or conditional to my feelings for him? It’s a name…As he rarely calls me by my name preferring his, frankly, rather stupid nickname yet I never question his feelings for me or the enjoyment that I get out of his company…” Sherlock shrugged and Greg had felt his eyebrow lift up his face as he thought about the other week when Sherlock had been idiotic enough to think that he would be the one cheating on him. 

“So, you’re telling me that when you said that you were married to your work…You were defecting?” 

“…You could look at that way…I am quite frankly surprised that you are surprised or had no idea…” Sherlock hummed almost softly “Lestrade, is the only one at the yard that is willing to work with me regularly and willingly, even when I constantly belittle his intelligence…You would imagine that somebody would put up with that if we weren’t being intimate? I must ask you for your forgiveness for the deception and hope that you will continue to work with me…”

“…You’re, you’re serious? You too…You two are really…Together? Does Mycroft know?” John asked and Greg let out a sigh allowing himself to drop down against Sherlock. It would have been impossible for Mycroft not to know about them. He had been threatened, in a very Mycroft like way, and they had developed an understanding. 

“You know my brother John…He was more than aware of the situation from the moment it began…” Sherlock sighed with a roll of the shoulders. 

“…And he doesn’t mind…?”

“Why should he? Who I am intimate with is none of his business any more than who he sleeps with is mine…” Sherlock shrugged once more and Greg wondered if he was in some strange dream and he would be woken up quickly. John was silent for a long time and Greg wondered if he could slip away for a shower and then get changed. “John…I understand that the idea may be shocking for you…” 

“Sunshine…Just give him a minute, okay?”

“Okay, if he understands that this will not be changing things…” 

“You two…Together? Seriously? But…How…?” John spluttered in disbelief and Sherlock gestured with hand saying flippantly;  
“That is a much longer story…” 

“…I think we have time…” 

“…Maybe later, when I’m not half naked…? Let me shower and change and then…We’ll go for a drink and…Explain…”


	2. Chapter 2

The pub was a little out of the way but it was better, at least they wouldn’t be running into anyone from the department and it was almost empty with just a few regulars propping up the bar staring with red rimmed eyes at the TV screen that was silently showing a friendly. Greg ordered three pints and then looked over at the table secluded in the alcove at the back. Sherlock and John were sitting tensely with Sherlock looking that special kind of nervous and being irritated about it. John was looking rather like a startled hamster. His eyes were wider than saucers and Greg would have thought it amusing if it wasn’t so serious. He had always imagined that John would be understanding. His sister was gay after all but there was always a risk that it might be different. He would hate it if John turned on Sherlock over this, though he was taking the fact that he was here to be a good sign.

“Here you go, mate…” The pup landlord said pushing the drinks in his direction breaking him out of his thoughts and Greg pulled some crumpled notes from his poke and tossed them onto the counter where they were proceeded to be checked. 

“Cheers, mate…” Greg grabbed the drinks and headed over to the table where he automatically sat beside Sherlock handing him the glass of ale before taking the larger for himself. Sherlock sipped his drink in an almost delicate manner while John gulped at his as though he had been dying of thirst. Greg sipped his own glad that his heart started to relax. His thigh pressed against Sherlock’s and the warmth seeped into him “…So…You have questions?”

“…Too right I have questions…” John spluttered around his drink and Greg could feel Sherlock stiffening against him and he knew that the barbs would be out before either of them knew it. It was a common defence that his lover used when he felt threatened and weak and Greg wished that he could make it better for him he really did but the only thing that he could do was ride it out and pick up the pieces if it all went wrong.

“Then I suggest that you get them off your chest…” Greg offered out and John drank some more before saying;

“How…When did it happen…” 

“Boring…” 

“Sunshine…” 

“Fine…Four years, two months, one week and four days ago, it was a Tuesday, the day we solved the murder of the old woman…” 

“…You remember the exact day and you don’t remember his name?” John asked sounding somewhat bitter while Greg tried not to be happy at Sherlock’s picture perfect recall. He could remember that day quite clearly though there were a few moments that were fuzzy around the edges. Mostly how they had gone from staring at each other in the crowded bar to being alone in his flat. Greg felt Sherlock tense his had coming to rest on his knee for a moment before it travelled up his body to his stomach. Greg knew where he was going. The star shaped scar that had been caused, in part, by Sherlock’s ability to be an uncontrollable prat sometimes. Greg often wondered if that was part of the reason that he refused to call in for back-up. It was stupid but he imagined that it would make sense in his fuzzy little head. 

“…I have a reason to remember…” Sherlock said his fingers ghosting over the scar through his polyester shirt managing to make his muscles react to the ticklish sensation that they caused and he quickly grabbed the fingers holding them tight as he almost growled;

“Sunshine…Maybe it would be better if we started from the beginning?” 

*******Four years, two months, one week and six days ago**********

Greg sat at his desk staring at the shop bought croissant that was far too dry for his liking. He had moved his stuff out of the wife’s house only a few days before and the boxes were still clogging up the hallways and living room. It was smaller than he would have liked and there appeared to be an annoying damp patch that wouldn’t be able to be got rid of. Maybe it would have been better if he had tried to make things work or if he had tried to stop thinking about the bratty detective that kept appearing and disappearing in and out of their lives. Recently he had been having more contact with Mycroft than he was Sherlock and from what he had gathered the detective was currently in an exclusive drying out centre. He suspected that it was a government building somewhere and secretly he hoped that it would work out this time.

“Greg, we’ve got a call” Donovan called through the door and Greg pulled his eyes about from the croissant to look at the woman who acted as his second in command. “…Sounds like a bad one, old woman locked in her bungalow…” 

“Locked?” 

“That’s what uniform said…Locked from the inside…Shot to the back of the head…No signs of a break in windows and doors barred…Doesn’t look like anything was taken…” Donovan hummed reading from her notebook and Greg groaned realising that it sounded almost exactly like a case they had gotten a week ago, except that one had been a man. Donovan continued to repeat the facts of the case and Greg was positive that he was hearing the exact same one and he knew that it was going to get the same outcome this time. “You’re not calling him in? We don’t need him…” 

“…We don’t need him? Of course, we do…But I can’t call him in, I have no idea where he was…” Greg muttered he didn’t even know if Sherlock was out of rehab. Tossing the croissant down into the bin under his desk and grabbing his coat from the hook on the wall. “Come on, let’s get going…” 

*Half an hour later*

Greg stared at the impossible scene that was in front of him. The woman was well and truly dead and appeared to have been since the weekend, at least if the smell was anything to go by, her eyes…Or rather eye was staring out at him with the glassy blue sheen that came from the dead. None of that was interesting to him though what was interesting was that Sherlock, the infuriating prat that had been occupying his thoughts for most of the morning was kneeling beside the body. 

“Are you clean?” Lestrade asked slowly, recovering from his surprise, his eyes narrowing just a little bit as he looked over the boy that he had come to be almost obsessed with since he had bumbled his way onto the case a year ago. There had been a lot of moments where he had wanted to punch him in the face, other times when he wanted to hold him and never let go. There was something deeply broken about Sherlock Holmes. He doubted that a man 20 years his senior would be the one to fix him. “Sherlock, are you clean? I can only let you in here if you’re clean…”

“…Of course, I’m clean, Mycroft has only just allowed my release…What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked looking up at him. His eyes narrowed and Greg was sure that his entire life story had been read within a few minutes. A smile filled the younger man’s face “When did you split up from your wife?”

“…A few days ago, not that’s any of your business…” 

“…Of course, but that has never stopped me before…” Sherlock pointed out with a shrug slipping his magnifying glass back into the pocket of his woollen coat. Greg rolled his eyes wondering why he was so obsessed with the prat and growled; 

“No, it hasn’t, but right now we’re at a crime scene…Somewhere you’re not meant to be…” 

“…You need me…You know you do…You already have an unsolved locked room murder…You can’t have a second…” 

“Fine, give me what you’ve got…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...This story got a chapter longer... >< I hope you don't mind...


	3. Chapter 3

“Sherlock! Get down!” Greg shouted as the gun cracked and for one singular moment it felt as though time had stopped for everyone but him. He could see everything in startling clarity and he moved grabbing a hole of Sherlock’s arm and pushed the consulting detective away from the bullet that was flying straight towards him. He knew that something like this would happen after Sherlock had announced almost a complete fit of the killer the day before. It had been amazing how perfectly right he had been about almost everything. Greg could still hear the confident arrogant voice in his head as he stood in the middle of the victim’s house. 

“You are looking for a double-glazing salesman in his late to mid-twenties…He writes with his left hand but he shoots with his right…He is not a physical person; his tread isn’t that heavy and given the size of the window wouldn’t imagine that he was anything more 12 pounds…He wears comfortable shoes that are slightly too big for him on one foot. His height is about 5’8 but he makes himself appear to be smaller, as though not wanting the world to notice him…” Sherlock had said confidently standing in the middle of the living room and looking very much like a magician that had just preformed the most amazing trick imaginable and Greg supposed that in a way he had. It was more than they had had before and more than even their best forensics would have been able to pick up in such a short space of time. Of course, he had been lost to the way Sherlock had looked, the tilt of his head, the way his hair had looked in the light that had come in through the window the killer had used. It was foolish really, he thought now as the bullet ripped through his body through his hip and out through the other side. 

The detective had been right of course, they had found the office easily enough by following a number that Sherlock had found on the fridge for the company that had replaced the windows in both properties. Sherlock’s description had them finding the name of the killer a Jack Bates although tracking him down from there had taken him the whole day, something that he was sure had infuriated the young consulting detective, but eventually they had found him hiding at a garage that night.

Sherlock had, of course, been the one to find it and Greg had been surprised to receive the call but he had made sure to get there as quickly as he could, knowing, in his heart, that Sherlock wouldn’t wait and if the man can kill sweet old grannies he was more than capable of killing somebody like Sherlock Holmes. Hell, he was sure that even he would kill Sherlock sometimes, and he was more than half way in love with him. 

In love, the was a stupid thought, he told himself, but then again, he had just been shot, he could have a stupid thought or two. He heard the bullet hit the floor and he groaned glad that he had landed on something relatively soft. His mind took a moment to adjust that it was Sherlock and that the younger man was already trying to get up. Jack was already making a run for it and Greg expected Sherlock to get after him but he was surprised. 

“Lestrade, the bullet went straight through, I don’t imagine that it hit anything vital…You’re going to be fine…” The detective said quickly looking as though he were running on autopilot. His face was pale, pinched, and his eyes frantic but his hands were gentle as he worked on him. Greg moaned a little more than was probably appropriate and if it had been any other time he would have been embarrassed but more than anything he wanted to sit up and make sure that Sherlock was okay. “Don’t try and move…You’ll do more damage to yourself that way…” The younger man said before pulling out his phone. 

“You’re okay?” Greg asked looking him over slowly as he was pushed back down by firm hands. Sherlock gave him a slow nod still looking troubled as he waited for his call to be answered. “Thank god…” 

“I don’t need to thank god, you’re the one that saved me…” Sherlock muttered before stiffing as his call was answered “Mycroft, Lestrade has been shot, get your surveillance team to do something useful and get my current location and get an ambulance, given the time of day it wouldn’t get here for at least ten minutes without you spooking them…Don’t give me that, I’ve only gotten out of that rehab you placed me in of course you have surveillance on me, use it…”

Sherlock growled clicking off the phone and looking at him. Greg instantly knew that he had that crazy look in his eye, the one that Donovan always said proved his lack of mental stability and he grabbed his hand tightly. 

“Just stay here, Sunshine…” 

“I have to go…He’s not getting away with this...” Sherlock spat “Mycroft will get the ambulance to you in half the time it would have taken normally…He’ll call for back up as well but I am not letting that man get away with shooting you…” 

“Don’t…I can’t worry about you and be shot at the same time…” Greg groaned as he started to move when it appeared that Sherlock was about to take flight and chase on after the man that had shot him. It was a horrible thought given that he still had the gun and wasn’t afraid to use it. 

“Worry about me? Why would you be worried about me? We can’t just allow a murderer to get away…” 

“If it means that you’re safe we can…At least for now, I didn’t get shot so you could go off and get killed sunshine…” Greg growled knowing that there was so much emotion in his voice that he was opening himself up to ridicule from Sherlock but, honestly, he really couldn’t think of anything beyond keeping Sherlock from charging after somebody without back-up “Just wait with me…”

“You’re not even seriously injured…” Sherlock sighed though Greg noted that he was looking down at his side when he spoke as if he was telling himself that and not just trying his best to reassure him. “…I’m sure you will be up bumbling around in no time…” 

“Ta for that…” Greg chuckled and then stopped as the pain spread through him again around his hip and then through his back. The sun was starting to break through the thick layer of clouds above them and Greg wasn’t sure if the chill he was feeling was from wind or the fact that his body was going into shock. “Just stay here with me, okay Sunshine…”

“…I will if your eyes stay open…G-Gary?” Sherlock offered his hand moving on his side again as he rearranged the compress while pulling his eyes to the road and glaring at it. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was thin as though he was blaming everything on the road in front of them and not the fact that he had been the one that had been flapping his lips and seemingly enticing the man to shoot him. 

“…Closer…” Greg chuckled his hand going down to the wound and found himself touching Sherlock’s hand. For some reason the action seemed a lot more intimate than just holding his hand to stop him from taking flight but it seemed that Sherlock didn’t appear to notice or care and the fingers were gentle against him seemingly caressing him as his mind was filled with the sound of an alarm. It wasn’t a public ambulance that arrived but a sleek black van followed by a black sedan. Government spooks stepped out dressed in their similar black suits. 

“Take care of him…” Sherlock said now pulling himself to his feet and this time Greg couldn’t stop him and he watched the detective run off into the night as the men Mycroft had sent got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...So this still isn't finished but I hope that it was okay...>.


	4. Chapter 4

Greg opened his eyes and found himself alone on a hospital room. Milky strands of sunlight were coming in through the windows and it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to realise that this wasn’t a run of the mill, NHS place. The room was mint green with creamy white tiles. There were flowers in a vase against a window. He wondered if this was where Sherlock had been kept to detox. He pressed his hand to his hip touching at the neatly wrapped bandage that covered his wound. The paramedics had told him that he was lucky, that it was only a little bit more than a flesh wound but it still hurt like a son of a bitch and he was more than happy to have the pain killers strapped to his arm. The door opened and he looked up hoping to see Sherlock but finding only Donovan looking at him. 

“Nice place you got put into…The freak paying for this?” She asked and Greg felt his face tighten and his hand grip at the bedclothes. “…What were you doing out there without backup?”

“I had backup…”

“…Sherlock Holmes…Fat lot of good that did you, in case you didn’t know you were shot…” 

“…Yeah…I noticed…What happened after?” Greg asked and Donovan sat herself down in the visitor’s chair and leaned forward with her forearms resting on her legs as she muttered;

“The perp was caught…He wasn’t in great shape and even if I don’t like the freak, he’s fast…Brought him in…Confessed to the whole thing…” 

“But?” Greg asked sensing that there was more she wanted to say and he could guess what it was going to be. Donovan had had a stick in her side about Sherlock since he had first started to help them. Okay, Sherlock didn’t help by constantly belittling them, but it was getting to the point that it wasn’t funny anymore…More so given the depths of his own feelings for the self-styled consulting detective. Donovan chewed her lip her eyes settling into the expression that she almost always chose when she was about to get out her theory that Sherlock was a murderer waiting to happen. 

“It was exactly like the freak said…” 

“And? He’s always been good at seeing things that we can’t…He gets off on it…” Greg said with a delicate shrug not wanting to aggravate the wound in his side not when he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. This hospital wasn’t for him, he had been brought up in a regular working man’s home and the luxury that was surrounding him now was starting to make his skin itch. Donovan let out a snorting sound from her nose as she muttered;

“Or he causes it…” 

“Wait, you’re trying to tell me that you think Sherlock Holmes…What…? Sets up the murders and then solves it?” Greg asked in disbelief. It wasn’t the first time that she had said something like that but it was the first time that she had said it to him. 

“Would it be that much of a stretch? There’s something not right about him…You got shot and he took off…” 

“He called for an ambulance…Waited with me until they arrived…Sherlock is not a murderer…A little weird maybe…But not a murderer and right now, after he’s solved a case and saved my life I don’t want to hear it…” He ordered the sergeant away and then flopped back into the pillows wondering if the doctor would come and discharge him. He could take the rest days at home where he was comfortable. 

It took him almost a complete day to get the discharge order and not once was he visited by Sherlock. He hoped that the young man hadn’t taken his injury too badly and hadn’t had a relapse. It didn’t seem too likely but the younger man had looked troubled and unstable the last time he had seen him. He managed to make it to the Nag’s head. It was the local for most of the yard and he had received a message that the team was meeting there. He promised them that he would put his head through the door before going home.   
The pub was, as ever, teeming with off duty police officers and he received more than one slap on the back as he came through most not knowing about Sherlock. The man refused to take credit for helping finding satisfaction only in proving how right he was but Greg hoped that one day he would get the recognition that he deserved. 

Just as he was thinking that thought he looked up to see Sherlock walked in through the double doors. His features were sharp, his expression clear, but Greg was sure that he looked uncomfortable as though he wasn’t sure that he would be welcomed. The team had already taken exception to his presence by falling silent and staring at him as he cut his way through them heading directly for him. Greg waited until Sherlock was close before shouting;

“Get on with your drinking…Would you like a drink?” 

“…Since I was only just released from the clinic yesterday I think I should refrain…Mycroft is already going to be annoyed by my presence here as it is and, I would rather my mind be clear tonight…” Sherlock announced as he sat himself down on the stool at his table and Greg nodded looking at the half shandy that he had been brought. It probably wasn’t a great idea to mix alcohol with his medication but right now he didn’t want his mind to be clear. “…You…” 

“You got him…?”

“Ah yes, as I had said he wasn’t in the best physical condition and he had backed himself into a corner…You…Saved my life…” Sherlock pointed out his face once again doing the tight troubled expression that he had seen last night. It was as though he had been greeted with new information that he didn’t seem to know how to control. Greg sipped at his shandy nodding as he muttered;

“…I guess…You probably had a clever plan or something to stop that…” 

“As impressive as my mind is I have yet to find a way to stop a bullet with it…” Sherlock tapped a stand beat out on the table with his fingertips before looking at him as though he had never seen him before. The eyes, almost green with flacks of amber studied him for a long time before he asked “Why?”

“…I wasn’t going to let you die Sherlock, don’t worry about it…” 

“You have placed me in the positon of owing you a debt that I will never fully be able to repay…Of course, my help whenever you may need it is always there…” Sherlock said in the same monotone way that Greg had come to expect but for some reason it infuriated him as he wondered how somebody who valued and thought of himself so highly could honestly not expect anybody else to view him in the same light. He had always assumed that Mycroft loved his brother in his own way, but now it seemed that Sherlock was truly baffled. 

“Sherlock I didn’t save you so you would be in debt to me, I saved you because I ca…” Greg stopped himself from blurting out the word care by slamming his mouth closed and scowling at the coaster on the table wondering why a peanut was laughing as it ate more peanuts. 

“…You have feelings for me? I…I am without a frame of reference but…You have feelings for me that are of an intimate nature…” Sherlock offered out and Greg was sure that the bottom had just fallen out of his world. It was the worst-case scenario time and he didn’t have any idea how he was going to stop Sherlock from blurting out rejection and he really didn’t want his team to hear. 

“…Sherlock, for Christ’s sake, we don’t have to talk about this here…” 

“No…Your apartment would be more appropriate for this kind of conversation wouldn’t you agree? Shall we head there now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that the next part is the end, i'm sorry for waffling >.


	5. Chapter 5

Greg looked around the apartment wishing that he’d had time to sort out some of the boxes before he had been shot. As it was he tried desperately to move a few boxes so he and Sherlock could sit down and he was positive that he almost tore out his stitches. He gave a grunt and Sherlock gave a grunt coming forward and moving them himself before pushing him down and pulling up the shirt. It was all done in silence and Greg wondered at the strangeness of it all. Once the young detective seemed to be satisfied he sat down beside him and drew his legs up to his chest hugging at his knees. His eyes were fixed on the bare wall where a rather large patch of mould was staring to overtake the wallpaper. It was barely better than a student’s flat but it was the only thing that he had been able to find at short notice 

“Maybe we should have gone to your place…” He muttered to Sherlock who shook his head slowly humming;

“As I am currently being forced to reside with Mycroft I don’t imagine that the awkwardness would improve, only increase…” 

“…Tenfold I should imagine…” Greg shuddered bodily at the idea of having Mycroft watching over them as he talked about his feelings. It was difficult enough with Sherlock sitting beside him and being uncharacteristically silent and nervous. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, the sound ringing around the flat so loudly that Greg wanted to rip it from the wall and throw it into the bin. It wasn’t like he even liked it all that much anyway, it had been a gift from a great aunt at some point in his career and he had kept it out of familiarity but now it was a hated torture device and he knew that he had to speak to get away from the sound “…Sherlock…You know that thing that you do where you forget everything that isn’t important…” 

“I delete it…” 

“Yeah, that, how about you delete what you think you’ve figured about me and my feelings for you…” Greg suggested hopefully but to his surprise Sherlock shook his head muttering;

“Impossible…” 

“To delete it? You delete my name at every available chance…” Greg groused getting up from the sofa and touching at his burning side as Sherlock stared up at him, his face blank and his eyes unreadable. It was an unnerving with Sherlock seemingly refusing to blink as he said;

“…Your name isn’t something that is important…” 

“Sherlock…” 

“…I…Have never been in the position of being the object of lust or of romance, in fact I loathe them from the very root of my being...” Sherlock announced slowly and Greg sighed steeling himself for the rejection that he knew what was coming. He had known from the start that his crush was unwise but he hadn’t been able to fight it. Now, with Sherlock’s rejection maybe he would be able to find some peace “I…Am unsure if I am capable of returning any feelings that you may have for me…And I should inform you that a romantic entanglement with me would be unwise…I…I am an addict and if it were not for my brother and his regular bouts of intervention I would still be so, I am also…Inhuman when it comes to the concept of emotions…” 

“I have met you Sherlock, I do know this…” Greg sighed, slowly starting to pace back and forth around the room wondering if he had been too quick in getting out of the hospital. The would have been clean and the treatment being the best in the country but right now it felt like the same ache that you got with a toothache. Annoyingly constant with no respite. Sherlock looked troubled again, worrying at his lower lip before he said;

“And yet you still look to me as a companion?” 

“…You can’t help who you fancy…” It wasn’t an award-winning confession but it was all he had at that moment. He had never expected to ever tell Sherlock of his feelings nor have Sherlock aware of them. It didn’t seem to be something that he would ordinarily pick up on, Greg knew for a fact that people did fancy the detective even if it was just to look at and they were filled with regret when they knew how cold and unfeeling he could be. 

“No, it would appear that is the truth…I have seen death many times, I have stood over many corpses in the morgue and felt nothing beyond interest in how they had died…” Sherlock whispered now, his voice sounding oddly distant as his eyes moved to his side “…My head told me that you were going to be okay…I had worked out everything about the wound…It seemed unlikely that it would kill you…And yet…” 

“And yet?

“…I was afraid...I watched you take the bullet for me and I was afraid…I have never had a friend, or anybody that I was close to...” Sherlock spoke the words in a matter of fact way but for some reason they pinched at Greg’s heart. He had always been quite popular at school and then again when he was in the academy but he could easily imagine somebody like Sherlock being a loner. Of course, Sherlock would pretend that it didn’t matter that being alone was better but nobody was meant to be alone. A figure came to his mind, dark, looming, and deeply sarcastic and he offered out slowly;

“Mycroft cares for you…” 

“As one might a science project…Ours is not a family that cares…I suppose that our parents did but…That is neither here nor there and not the point that I was trying to make…” Sherlock pursed his lips looking frustrated at being derailed and Greg gave a smile sitting down on the arm of the sofa and watching as Sherlock held his hands together in a prayer like motion as he once again stared at the wall across from them. “I have known for a while that you…Have desires for me…At first I tried to push the idea away…But…Tonight when you took that bullet I realised that…I…despite how idiotic I find the notion…I don’t mind that you have feelings for me…And I don’t want to delete the knowledge that you do…In fact, your presence to me is one that I find to be irreplaceable…I would not be a good partner for you however…I know my many flaws better than anyone and asking you to accept them is not fair…” 

“I rather think that I should be allowed to decide that for myself, sunshine” Greg told him wondering if this was really happening. He was almost sure that he was about to wake up and still be in the garages. It sounded suspiciously like Sherlock was telling him that he was okay with them being in a relationship. “I know that you’re a prat, that you’re irritating…And that you will always insult me…” 

“Only when you do something particularly stupid…” Sherlock said dryly his lips twisting into something into something almost resembling a smile “You are by far the least irritating of the officers that I have encountered and you seemed to be less inclined to tell me to go to hell…” 

“…Only because I know that you’re trying to help, in your own way…You could be nicer…” Greg muttered but Sherlock pulled a face asking the predictable question of;  
“Why would I do that? Would that solve more cases?”

“…I suppose not, but it might stop people thinking that you’re an arse…” 

“…I don’t care what people think of me…People opinions are worthless…” Sherlock huffed somehow delivering the cold words with the look of an errant school boy and Greg smiled cuffing him on the shoulder before grunting with pain as it pulled at his stitches a little. He pushed the pain aside and said;

“You’re not as heartless as you pretend to be…You’re not Mycroft…” 

“…I would be grateful if you didn’t let other people know that…” 

“…Sherlock…What is happening here? Between us…?”

“I’m not sure…What exactly would you want to happen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously this won’t end…>.< I’m sorry for the delay…I’ve been ill recently >.


	6. Chapter 6

*~*~*Present Day*~~*~*~*~*

John stared at the pair his hand around the pint glass that had been emptied a long time ago. He had always considered himself to be an open-minded man. He didn’t get on with Harry but that was down to her drinking and not down to her choice in bed partners. But for the life of him he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see what these two people, people that he considered to be his friends regardless if Sherlock refused to call him that in return. Greg had always been a fair cop putting up with Sherlock flouncing his way onto the crime scene and ordering everybody about and insulting more than half of them.

“And that’s it? That’s how you suddenly decided to…Jump into bed together…?”

“…Don’t be stupid, John, Lestrade was injured and I…I…Wasn’t…” 

“The physical side of things came later…” Greg clarified when Sherlock became lost in himself and John stared at the man that he had thought he had known. It seemed…Unreal…And for a moment he hoped that they were about to both laugh and tell him that he was an idiot for believing them. Of course, that was until he saw the obvious truth of the statements by Sherlock’s hand resting over Greg’s stomach where he must have been injured. There was something oddly delicate about the way the detective was touching him and he smiled getting to his feet and grabbing the glasses;

“So…Another round?”

“John? You…You don’t have…Anything else to say?” Sherlock asked and John thought of the millions of questions that should have been going through his head. There were a few obvious one such as; was Greg taking advantage of the situation, did Sherlock think he was paying him back for saving his life. He dismissed those thoughts easily though, simply by looking at the fingers moving on Greg’s side and the looks that were in both his friends’ eyes. It was genuine, a real depth that he imagined Molly would give anything to have directed in her direction. 

“…Nope…Not a thing…You’re a couple…I suppose I should ask…” He hummed and he could have sworn that Sherlock physically tensed his face pinching “Will I need to be looking for a new flatmate anytime soon?”

“No, Greg and I are not at this moment ready for cohabiting…” Sherlock answered while Greg finished off the rest of his pint. The detective inspector’s eyes were smiling approvingly at him and John felt happy that he had been able to give his friends that kind of relief “He couldn’t handle my experimentation…You…Are sure that this…Is not going to cause any awkwardness between us?”

“...I don’t see how…So, same again?”

“…Please…” Greg answered and John gave a nod making his way to the bar allowing them some time alone. 

*~*~*~*~Two hours later*~*~*~**~

Greg led Sherlock into 221B Baker Street. His hand was on the small of his back and it felt good that here in this apartment with John just a few feet ahead. If he had known the weight that would lift from his shoulders simply by telling the doctor he would have insisted that they do it sooner. Even Sherlock appeared to be more relaxed as he leaned into him as if he were enjoying his warmth, something he only normally did when they were alone together. Once in the flat Sherlock led him to his bedroom and snapped the door closed. 

“Sherlock? Is everything, okay?” Greg asked as Sherlock went to sit on his bed. His legs were crossed and his eyes were closed, like a person meditating and Greg would have been sure that that was what he was doing if he didn’t know that Sherlock hated all ideas of religion. “Sherlock...” 

“...Sorry, I was just…Storing things away…” Sherlock hummed opening one eye and tapping his temple with his finger slowly. Greg supposed that that made sense but he had never seen him looking so focused on it before, unless he was on a case. Greg pulled off his jacket and then went to sit beside him as he asked;  
“And deleting them?” 

“…No, just storing them for future reference in a little room in my mind palace…” Sherlock gave a smile and then rearranged himself on the bed. He was on his side with his arm tucked under his arm and Greg allowed himself to drop back down onto his back his head turned to face him. “…You seem to be pleased with yourself…” 

“…Aren’t you? Things are resolved with John…I mean even you have to admit that that went better than either of us expected…” He pointed out reaching out to lightly move the wayward curl away from Sherlock’s eye. He loved those curls more than as healthy but he preferred Sherlock’s eyes. He liked it when those were eyes were focused completely on him. “…Sherlock?” 

“I’m surprised that you remembered that case as clearly as you did…” Sherlock pointed out and Greg was prepared for Sherlock’s normal rant about his stupidity and inability to remember the important details but Greg was sure that this time he had the young detective beat. This case was the most important case in his life and he would never forget the details of it. 

“…It was an important case…”

“Hardly, the locked room was interesting but…Overall it was easy, barely even a five…” Sherlock shrugged and Greg rolled his eyes knowing that his lover was giving out his idea of a joke. He could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile and his fingers had already moved to his side over the scar again. 

“I didn’t mean the case, Sherlock, I meant that it got you to admit that you cared for me…” 

“I don’t recall admitting anything of the sort…I stated only that your presence in my life is important…” Sherlock frowned looking uncomfortable with the sentiment and Greg moved in for a kiss. He took the younger man off guard capturing the lips and coaxing him in to a deeply passionate kiss as he slid his body over him. Sherlock froze for a moment his eyes filling with panic but he relaxed opening his legs and allowing him to settle in between them. Their groins rubbed together in a slow and steady circular motion while Greg plundered the ready mouth. Sherlock had been a useless kisser when they had first started and he could easily remember Sherlock’s affronted voice as he muttered something spending his time at college studying various types of dirt and not ill-fated love affairs but he had improved now even if it always took a while for him to get into it. Sherlock’s mouth opened into a breathless little pant. Greg allowed himself to relax as Sherlock’s hand pulled at his shirt as he growled;

“Let me see you…” 

“…And you…” Greg agreed his voice rough and darkened with desire. They stripped each other slowly and then Greg happily started to kiss at his chest while Sherlock touched at the scars on his stomach and then his back. The skin had healed completely without pain but Sherlock had always been obsessed with it. If they hadn’t already had several conversations about it he would have been sure that Sherlock was only with him out of guilt. “I love you…” 

“…I know…” Sherlock responded his voice warm with the emotions that he might never be able to express. Greg smiled preparing him slowly with his fingers before positioning himself at the opening. He knew that it would be impossible to last for very long but as Sherlock was in the same situation as him he knew that it would be okay. Sherlock’s legs wrapped around him almost tightly as his nails dug into his back. His body, too slim, and too pale, to be truly healthy as arched back against the bed. Greg moved his hips as slowly as possible but it truly was impossible and he soon he was pounding into him his hand wrapped around the cock as he stroked him back and forth. 

Moans, and bed squeaks filled the room and it wasn’t long before they came with a grunt and a shout. Greg collapsed heavily on top of Sherlock kissing the sweat from his neck while wrapping his arms around him tightly. There was nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing for a while and then a knock sounded on the door and John’s voice floated in saying;

“…You could let me know in future…If you’re going to do that…I mean…And I’ll pop out or something, yeah?”

“…Right you are John…” Greg answered while Sherlock tried to hide himself in the sheets. Greg gave a laugh kissing Sherlock’s neck again knowing that they had made the right choice in telling John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...The ending seems a little flat...I apologise...There will be more moments in this series, though for a while I want to focus on my Mycroft/Sherlock story

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm....I hope that this is okay :)


End file.
